


Nodus Tollens

by BaegentWashington (RyanTheFreewoodGuy)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, there's a major death but they don't really die?, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTheFreewoodGuy/pseuds/BaegentWashington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carolina's request for a favour leads to a realisation. A battle with Locus leads to a second. Dealing with the consequences leads to the third.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liberosis: The desire to care less about things

**Author's Note:**

> **Nodus Tollens:** _The realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore._
> 
> This was sparked by [this post](http://tmblr.co/Zm3Tvs1jz1YjB) by Tumblr user [imjustlo](http://imjustlo.tumblr.com/) and a headcannon I've been meaning to write for a while.
> 
> While you're at it, come visit my [Tumblr](http://luchemuffin.tumblr.com/) and leave me prompts or headcanons!

"Tucker, I really need you to do something for me."

Tucker whipped around at the statement, eyes locking onto Carolina's through their visors before throwing an exaggerated wink her way.

"I'd rather do something _to_ you, but I'll settle for providing additional services, baby.”

"And _I’d_ rather you never say anything like that to me ever again or else I’ll make sure they never find your body," the woman said, voice dangerously flat as she rested a fist on her hips. "But seriously, it's about Agent Washington."

"Oh shit. Did he finally snap? Did he run off on another suicidal mission? Is he trapped at the bottom of a well?" Tucker's voice rose with each question, fingers twitching near the hilt of his sword.

The ex-freelancer shook her head before exhaling forcefully. "No, nothing like that. This is a little more, well, personal."

The space marine had never been so happy to have such dark skin at that moment. The only person he had to lie about the following blush to was himself, and he had the whole supressing-weird-thoughts-about-Wash thing down pat. "Okay, I'll bite. What am I supposed to do? Take him out for a beer or something?"

Carolina tilted her head to the side before nodding. "Yeah, actually. A few drinks might work wonders."

"Uh, Carolina? I'm not gonna argue with an order that includes alcohol but why exactly am I doing this?"

"He just… He really needs a friend right now."

"How in the world can you say that you're not his friend? He's known you _waaaay_ longer than any of us," Tucker pointed out.

Another sigh from the woman. "I am, but he’s finally starting to see me as his CO again and I didn't do too well with that last time. I'm just… I'm just being careful."

Tucker watched as she passed her pistol to her left hand, a nervous habit he'd seen her do countless times since they were all reunited. "You’re talkin’ about Project Freelancer shit, right?" He didn't really expect much of an answer since neither of the Freelancers nor Church (Epsilon? Alpha? DoucheBag McAsshole?) would talk about the project much.

"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is that he needs someone to warm up to. A few someones, preferably."

“Woah, woah, woah. I know I’m pretty much a sex god but… Are you asking me to have an orgy with Wash?” Tucker was definitely starting to lose his supressing-weird-thoughts-about-Wash skills. To be honest, he could think of a couple people right off the bat who might be open to some group lovin’ and seeing Wash naked wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world…

“Oh, for the love of– No!” Carolina threw her hands up in frustration before pressing her hand against her forehead. “Just, it’d be better if I showed you, I guess. Hold on.”

Epsilon popped up in between the two teal (aqua? blueish-green? minty blue? Seriously, what colour is this?) soldiers, stretching his flickering body as if he’d just been having the best nap of his life before grumbling and nodding at Carolina. A video was projected onto the wall, and Tucker was moderately confused until he heard a laugh he’d only heard a handful of times before.

In the clip, Agent Washington was attempting to balance on an old skateboard that was… attached to the Meta’s back?

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Carolina’s voice crackled from Epsilon’s speakers. “Maine, there’s no way you agreed to this.”

The Meta – no, Agent Maine – growled a few chuckles while Washington squealed in excitement. “This is the best decision ever, of all time!” He flapped his arms wildly and somehow remained relatively steady. “Alright! I’m ready for phase 2! AUTOBOTS, ROLL OUT!”

Maine took a step forward and not even a second after, Wash’s back was violently meeting the ground while his skateboard apparently decided to tour the cosmos. A loud cacophony of applause and laughter erupted in the room and the camera swung around to look at the surrounding Freelancers – a few of which Tucker thought he recognised from the old pictures Wash had in his room – before settling back on Wash’s smiling, freckled face.

The screen went dark for a minute while Epsilon grunted, seemingly trying to locate another clip.

The next one looked like it was taken through the crack of a door, a rolling southern accent muffled. Wash was barely visible past the door jamb and a whisper was covering up most of the Director’s lecture.

“York, come on, man. He might get fired.”

“Nah, just demoted. Probably switched to Florida’s team or something.”

“I don’t know. The Director probably won’t take too kindly to him lighting the mess hall on fire. _Again.”_

“Yeah, but it was for science! Wasn’t it a totally delicious experiment?”

“I’m serious, York!”

“You worry way too much, North.”

Another blank wall before Epsilon sighed, a third image flickering to life against the stone.

Carolina was standing at the foot of a cot, face in a deep scowl and hands planted angrily on her hips. She was yelling at Wash because he was… Oh, he was jumping on his bed and playing an electric guitar really, really badly.

“Agent Washington, as your CO, I demand that you fucking stop–…”

“NOPE.” Wash continued to hop up and down on the mattress, now just strumming random chords. “NOOOOOOOOOPE.”

“I’ll personally see that the Director fires your sorry ass,” the fire-haired woman screeched.

“Nah, fuck that,” the blond replied. “If he was going to fire this fine piece of unadulterated sexiness, he’d have done it months ago.”

The person holding the camera erupted into giggles, and Carolina glared at them. “CT, seriously, you aren’t helping. Don’t you have some training to be doing or something?”

Wash proceeded to throw the guitar into the crowd of people watching their exchange and fell onto his knees, fists held defiantly in the air. “THANK YOU. I’M HERE ALL NIGHT.”

As the cheering started, Tucker turned away, unable to shake away the feeling that he just saw something extremely private. “Okay, fuck. You can stop now, I get it. He used to be Grif.”

“Actually, I was going to say that he used to be like you.” She made a motion towards the AI and the video faded out slowly. “But, yes. He used to be…”

“Fun?” Tucker said softly, eyes unable to stare at anything other than the red dirt under his feet.

“Alive,” Carolina corrected, arms crossing over her chest plate.

“Well, what fucked him up so badly?” the man asked, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

When he lifted his eyes, he was met with a shrug. “War. The Director. Epsilon. Mostly Epsilon.”

The hologram choked back an uncomfortable groan before flickering out of sight. The simulation trooper’s gaze lingered on the empty air the computer program left behind. He shook his head to get back to the conversation that began this whole thing.

“So, you want me to… what?” he finally mumbled. “Force him to open up about his shitty past? Make him cry?”

“If that’s what has to happen, then yes,” Carolina confirmed before sighing. “He’ll never be… _David_ again, but he does deserve to be happy. And it seems like he trusts you a lot. That’s already something.”

“I don’t know, Carolina,” Tucker responded with a grimace. “I really want to help the guy, but it seems like a really big project, and if you haven’t noticed, I don’t necessarily have the best track record when it comes to success.”

“Then don’t think of it as a project, Tucker.” She switched her gun back to her dominant hand in preparation to leave. “Just think of it as helping your friend who has just about nothing left to lose.”

Tucker watched her walk away before returning to his post. His mind replayed that smile, the laugh, the utter innocence that was David Washington. _Could all that really be nurtured back to life with a few beers?_

“PRIVATE!”

Grey armour striped with yellow accents came into his line of vision seemingly out of nowhere to scold a soldier across the field. His body language screamed of tension and irritability. Of cold. Of a broken man.

_No,_ Tucker concluded. _This man cannot be helped with a few beers and a couple of laughs. He’s a fucking lost cause._

But Tucker decided to try anyway.


	2. Adronitis: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone

It wasn’t until about eight days after Carolina and Tucker’s conversation that the man finally made his move. Tucker and Wash had just finished running drills with the soldiers and were headed to the showers to clean up, helmets in hand. They were walking in silence, the kind that was gentle and companionable, not the bitter one of discomfort they had shared before this whole Chorus thing went down. Still, Tucker knew that he had to break the silence now or else he’d lose the nerve.

“Hey Wash?”

Washington nearly jumped out of his armour before realising who was addressing him and visibly relaxing. “What is it, Tucker?” His voice was gravelly from shouting orders all day and dripped of sheer exhaustion.

“Uh, I was wondering if you’d maybe like to grab something to drink tonight? I mean, I know Chorus doesn’t have much in terms of alcohol, but Kimball said she’d be able to get me some if you wanted? Said she owed me after nearly getting this fine ass murdered just to save this floating hunk of rock.” The teal soldier ground his teeth in frustration with how pitiful and squeaky he sounded.

The blond blinked in surprise before squinting slightly, a sign Tucker had long since learned meant the agent thought he was being tricked.

“Why would you want to do that, Captain Tucker?”

The teal-clad man winced, hating when Wash addressed him so formally in private. He thought they’d gotten past DEFCON 1 levels of suspicion.

“Because, dude. We’ve known each other for a while now and we’ve never once grabbed a drink. Like, I get that it’s weird because we’ve been stuck in the middle this stupid war and all the shit with Project Freelancer, but don’t you think it’s about time we get to know each other better?”

“We already do know each other, Lavernius.”

Tucker tried his best to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. He wondered if he would ever hear Washington say his first name without the acidic taste lingering behind. He wondered why he even cared.

“Yeah, but. Just come grab a beer or two with me, man. Just this once, and I promise I won’t ask again unless you want me to.”

Wash let his shoulders relax and sighed. “Yeah, okay. One drink can’t hurt.”

* * *

They weren’t able to find time for their date (which Tucker kept reminding himself was _totally platonic_ and also _not at all a trick to get Wash to be human again_ ) for another two days. It seemed like every time they were getting ready to leave, something went wrong and they were called away to help rectify the situation.

And honestly, the reasons were getting more and more ridiculous. The first time had been pretty serious: Jensen had been trying to return a jeep to the vehicle bay and had somehow ended up crashing it and catching five other vehicles on fire. It’d taken about fifteen soldiers, three hoses, and a solid hour to get the raging flames under control. Jensen is now no longer allowed to drive, _effective immediately_.

Then it’d been Grif’s fault. The mess hall had run out of refried beans before Grif could finish his shift in the armoury and in retaliation he sat on the serving bar and yelled hysterically until Tucker, Wash, and Simmons finally were able to find him a smoothie to placate him. Afterwards, neither Tucker nor Wash were in the mood to deal with other people.

Everything else started to fall apart: the pipes in the bathroom cracked (totally not because Caboose was re-enacting how he “single-handedly saved Agent Washington”), the mess hall was closed for half a day (definitely not due to a “top secret mission” carried out by Grif and Bitters), _and_ all the rifles somehow jammed (absolutely not because Caboose had convinced Palomo and Andersmith to put crayons in them to make the other soldiers happier).

Finally, _finally_ , they both had a night completely off duty. Tucker had grabbed two six-packs of beer before heading up to the rooftop. He pried off one of the lids before sipping at it and pulling his knees up to his chest. With tired fingers, he idly picked at the label, letting his mind wander.

Due to his self-provided distraction, he was surprised when a body slumped down on the ground next to him. A shock of blond hair brought him back to the present, and Wash heaved a long sigh before snatching up a bottle of his own. They sat in silence, each drinking three beers before Tucker finally spoke up.

“Shit sucks.” Mentally, Tucker was kicking himself. Seriously? That was the best he had? _Shit, Tucker. You’re never gonna fix Wash at this rate._

A snort snapped him out of his self-depreciating reverie. “Yeah, you could say that.” Wash took in a large mouthful of beer before letting the corner of his mouth curl up into a slight smile. “You know, as terrible as this whole situation is, I don’t think I’ve done something this _normal_ in as long as I can remember,” he says, head nodding towards their sweating bottles.

It was Tucker’s turn to snort but he for once he didn’t add any additional commentary. Instead, the two men sat in silence as they watched the sun sink slowly below the horizon.

“But despite all of this?” the freelancer started, voice barely crackling over a faint whisper. “Despite everything that’s happened, everything that’s happening now? I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“Huh?” Tucker’s hands stilled where they were busy tying his dreads back into a loose ponytail. “Wash, I know that we always give you a hard time but… are you feeling okay?”

“I mean it, Tucker,” he responds, finally turning to face the darker man. Another swig of beer slid down his throat, bringing with it both the iciness of the liquid and the warmth of the alcohol. “Sure, the Director was a terrible person and the things we did with Project Freelancer… I don’t think I can ever make that up for my mistakes. But it led me to you guys.” He paused again, staring at his fingers as if they held the answers he was looking for. “I’ve lost more than I ever thought I could. I was betrayed, abandoned, and taken advantage of by people I thought I could trust. But you all have proven time and time again that you’re not going anywhere. Hell, when I first met you, Tucker, you were a pitiful soldier. But look at you now! You’re helping to lead an entire damn army. You sacrificed yourself without any personal gain! You’re such an incredible, selfless person. I just wish I could say the same about myself.”

Tucker knew he should close his jaw before it hit the floor, but he was unable to hide his complete shock. “Wash, you are. You are incredible. Yeah, you had moments where you were a huge fucking douche. I mean, seriously, you shot Donut!” The blond’s face flushed violently as he tried to bury his face in his arms. “Stop that. I’m not done, dude.”

Wash looked up at him when he carefully placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Wash, you’re so strong, stronger than I could ever hope to be, even with all those drills you make us run. You were mistreated and lied to, someone fucking committed suicide in your head, and your best-friend-turned-high-tech-military-weapon turned on you when you were moments from your freedom. You’re a better person than the rest of us assholes, believe me.”

Silence draped itself around them, a warm and comfortable blanket to wrap them up safely. Wash had an unreadable expression on his face, and Tucker had the sudden need to figure out how to make it go away. Before the teal soldier could act on his thoughts though, Washington jerked forward to wind his arms around Tucker’s neck, body shaking uncontrollably. 

And the next moment was one that Tucker will probably remember for the rest of his miserable excuse of an existence. Because as Tucker rocked the sobbing man and began to hum a soft tune like he used to do for Junior, Wash’s lips formed the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

Sure, it was soft and pained, but it was sweeter than any honey he’d ever tasted and better than any sex he’d ever had.

Because as Wash pulled back to look Tucker in the eye, he whispered a single word that completely shattered the space marine while simultaneously filling every crack with unadulterated adoration.

“ _Lavernius_ …”


	3. Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the dump. I just wanna post these before I forget.

Tucker would be lying if he said that things were completely the same after their night on the roof. I mean, yeah, Agent Washington resumed his brutal drills, pushing the soldiers harder than he ever had. But Tucker would catch him staring sometimes, eyes soft around the edges like he’d never seen before.

True to his word, though, the captain didn’t ask Wash for a repeat of that night. It had, after all, been part of the deal, no matter how badly he wanted to relive the experience. Luckily Tucker didn’t have to wait too long.

Three days after the first night on the roof, Washington carefully approached Tucker like he was trying not to startle a skittish animal. The sim trooper raised his head to meet the older man’s gaze when he walked in, and he hoped that the sheer exhaustion wasn’t too evident on his face.

“You know, Kimball gave me the rest of the night off and we still have a couple of these left over…” His quiet voice trailed off while slightly lifting the pack of beer in his hand.

“Fuck yeah! I’m totally down, Wash!” Tucker wasn’t sure where his sudden burst of energy had come from. He’ll be the first to admit that he was a little too beat to have another heartfelt discussion, but he was willing to do anything for Wash after seeing just how truly broken he was.

The two men tried to sneak up to the roof like last time but were surprised to find two other familiar forms intertwined and staring off into the sunset, a low, loving murmur drifting softly to the horizon.

Tucker pulled on Wash’s hand before the maroon and orange soldiers had a chance to notice their (most likely unwanted) visitors.

With few private places left, Wash used Tucker’s lingering grip to guide him toward their shared room. It would be a little strange to sit together and drink in their own room since they weren’t really used to much more than grunting a good night or good morning. But Tucker realised that it was probably one of the few locations that Wash still felt comfortable in, so he happily followed the agent.

Once they reached the bunk, Tucker flopped down on his bed and patted the spot right next to him.

“Come on in, soldier. The water’s fine!”

The ex-freelancer rolled his eyes but quickly sat down beside his friend. He handed the man a beer before cracking one open himself and chugging about half of it in one go. The familiar lightness started to flood his chest and he felt like a thousand pounds had just been lifted from his shoulders. Tucker glanced over, teal eyes glowing brightly in the dim room to match the intricate patterns that swirled across his skin. Wash let his mind drift to some theories about the alien science that fuelled Tucker’s strange markings and colourings that he had picked up along the way. He could feel the gentle buzzing where their skin was pressed together and he sighed and leaned into it a little before he could stop himself. If Tucker noticed (or cared), he didn’t say anything.

“What’s on your mind tonight, O Mighty David of the Washingtons?” he ventured as aqua clashed against gun-metal grey as their eyes locked together.  

After a brief pause, Wash’s voice crackled to life. “How much Sangheili do you know?” His shoulders tensed as he waited for Tucker’s response to the seemingly random question but the confused tilt of the other man’s eyebrows only lasted a brief moment before his lips curled into a gentle smile.

“I mean, enough, I guess? Junior and I were ambassadors for a while so I had to pick up a lot from him. For example, hwahrethe,” he said, raising his bottle slightly to show the meaning of the foreign word. “Mwak,” a finger extended towards his helmet sitting on the makeshift desk in the corner. “She'nskro,” he flicked his wrist to draw out his sword and lightly waved it around, keeping it a safe distance away from them. When he looked back to the blond sitting in his bed, he froze, suddenly overcome by the sheer fascination and awe filling Wash’s eyes. For some reason, the utter trust and adoration made it difficult to swallow, and he wasn’t entirely convinced that it was the alcohol that was causing his head to feel fuzzy.  “Monerasha,” he breathed out, gaze not straying from those brilliantly sharp irises. Because, _fuck_ , somehow he’d fallen in love.

Some benevolent god must’ve been watching out for Tucker because the rest of the night passed without much more humiliatingly sappy bullshit (though the teal-covered man still isn’t sure what the fuck happened to him). Well, at least he had _assumed_ that the humiliatingly sappy bullshit was over. What he didn’t expect was that Agent Mother-Fucking-Linguistic-Extraordinaire really had been paying attention to his Sangheili lessons and fully intended on using them. Tucker _assumed_ that this wouldn’t be a very big deal. But, hey, you know what they say about what happens when you assume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sangheili Translations:  
> • hwahrethe - drink, most often beer  
> • mwak - helmet  
> • she'nskro - energy sword  
> • monerasha - love
> 
> Translations from a post found [here](https://sinsoftheprophets.com/forums/index.php?/topic/327-sangheili-language-dictanary/).


	4. Lachesism: The desire to be struck by disaster

“Hey, _monerasha_ , grab your stuff. I’d like talk to you about something before we get to the mess hall.”

Tucker’s breath caught in his throat as the Sangheili pet-name registered. He’d called Junior that many times before, but coming from Wash, it held such a different meaning. At this point, he was honestly considering asking Dr Grey if she could a) build a time machine so he could go back and stop himself from acting like a lovesick fool last night, b) completely erase any memory of the word from Washington’s mind, or if Plan A and B don’t work, c) simply put Tucker into medically induced coma where he can live out the rest of his days without the sweet symphony of Wash’s voice purring his special language to him.

The steel-coloured soldier stopped when he noticed that the captain wasn’t following him. “Tucker? Did I say something wrong?” His head cocked to the side, and Tucker had to ball his hands into fists to refrain from reaching out to rub his thumbs over the milky galaxy of freckles that adorned his face.

“Dude, I said that word once. I didn’t even explain what it meant. And now you’re just throwing it around like Sister’s shirt at Marti Gras and your stupid gravelly voice makes it sound like a million times better than I could ever dream of sounding.”

Wash blinked his eyes several times before chuckling. “Seriously? You’re jealous that I have a better voice for Sangheili than you after one day?”

“Wipe that smug look off your face, you prick. I’m not dealing with this right now. What the fuck did you want to talk about, anyway?” The teal-clad man picked up his helmet and headed over to his (totally exasperating) friend.

“Well, I met with Kimball and Doyle this morning,” he began vaguely, free hand waving with the same lack of direction as his statement.

“Dude, that’s nothing new. You meet with them every morning. Do you want a goddamn medal or something, princess?”

Tucker knew he deserved the scowl he received, but he still didn’t like the way it looked on Wash’s pink lips. “No, asshole. We have a plan to end this war.”

Instantly the captain stopped walking and swung his wide-eyed expression to face the freelancer head-on.

“Would you care to _share_ what this plan of attack is with the entire class, Washington?”

“Look, I know you won’t like it,” Tucker’s growl interrupted him but he kept going as if he couldn’t hear it. “But the Kimball and Doyle gave it the green light and Carolina and Church thought it seemed like a decent strategy as well. Plus, it’s the best idea we’ve have so far, so we’re going to start assembling everybody as quickly as we can.”

“That’s fan-fucking-tastic, dude, but you have yet to tell me what the damn plan is!”

“Okay, okay. But seriously, I’m not sure you’re going to like it...”

* * *

It just so happens that Washington was 100% accurate in his prediction. 

“This is such fucking bullshit!” Tucker screamed as he punched the wall for the fourteenth time. “What the fucking fuck, you fucktard? You think this is a good idea? _And_ you managed to get the Chorus generals behind you on this? I can’t…! I don’t…! I…” It would seem that the man was starting to run out of steam (or at the very least angry desperation) as far as Wash could deduce from seeing the teal markings start to glow less intensely as Tucker leaned against the wall to catch his breath, only to collapse a moment later.

“ _Monerasha_?!” 

* * *

“Lavernius!” a gentle voice breathed, “Oh, thank god, I thought I lost you.”

“ _Krortjka_ ,” he croaked, feeling the full extent of his aching body. “ _Hurts,_ ” he clarified when he noticed Wash’s confused expression.

“I know it hurts, _monerasha_. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise that you hadn’t been sleeping or that you apparently felt that it was necessary to do _additional_ drills on top of the ones I already hear you complaining about daily. Speaking of which, what the hell, Tucker?”

“I need to be better, Wash. I need to prove to everyone that I’m worth the trouble I always seem to cause. I need to prove to _you_ that I’m worth it. I need to _be_ worth it.”

The freelancer’s hand curled tighter around Tucker’s before meeting his eyes. Tucker could recognize the pain and understanding but another emotion lay deeper, and he couldn’t even begin to deconstruct its meaning given the pounding in his head.

“I thought of another plan,” he grumbled instead. “One that doesn’t involve you and Carolina needlessly sacrificing yourself. Which, by the way, you guys really seem to like that tactic. You should probably get that checked out or something. I’m sure Grey’s just dying to get a full psychoanalysis or something.”

Tenseness flashed through Wash’s body as he set his face as impassively as possible. “What does this new idea entail, Lavernius?”

“Just hear me out, okay? Locus and Felix work best when they’re together. So we just have to separate them again and take them out that way. We can break into squads, maybe even go back to Reds and Blues if it’s easier. Maybe send one of you freelancers with them so we’re more evenly distributed? And it seems like Felix has caught on to my tactics of stalling so you and the blues and I could take down Locus while Carolina and the Reds take down Felix? We would need to play off of their loyalties to each other, Felix’s impossible ego, and Locus’s strict adherence to protocol.”

“That…” Washington managed after a moment of consideration. “That might actually work. I’ll go talk to the others and see what they think and then come back to ask Grey when you’ll be ready to be released. Sleep for now, _monerasha_. You need it.”

Tucker nodded weakly before letting his eyes slip closed. Seconds before his world went dark, however, he could’ve sworn he felt something soft and wet press against his forehead.

* * *

A week. They had had a week to plan and train and organise everything and everyone. Tucker had been released an hour after Washington had returned and the two had been training alongside each other constantly, nearly inseparable as the big showdown approached.

Caboose sat on the hood of a jeep, idly swinging his legs while chatting with his weird alien AI, Santa. Church and Carolina were running through some last minute details with Sarge. Grif and Simmons were in the corner of the room, staring intensely at each other and whispering fiercely. Tucker watched as Grif took one of Simmons’ hands in his own and carefully kissed each knuckle before murmuring something else that seemed to make the cyborg relax a little more.

Grey and yellow approached Tucker slowly before nudging him lightly. “Anything you’d like to say before the mission, Lavernius?”

Teal armour shook gently with a strangled chuckle. “Yeah, sure, dude. I was just wondering if all this hero bullshit is gonna score me any extra points with the ladies.”

Wash rolled his eyes and nudged his shoulder again. “Seriously, you okay?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. I just…” his voice trailed off as he ran his finger down the sights of his gun. “I was actually wondering how this is going to turn out, you know? And I wonder where Junior is right now. I wonder if he knows how proud of him I am. I wonder if he’s proud of me, too.”

Silence rested between them, warm but apprehensive.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m proud of you.”

Tucker turned towards him immediately, any attempt at speaking lost as his mouth flapped open and closed in a desire to express whatever cloud of emotions was rolling about inside him.

“Alright, soldiers!” Kimball called from the balcony. “Everyone into your team vehicles! Reds, you’ll be following Agent Carolina and Church. Listen to their every order, and you will have the best chance of making it out alive. As for the Blue team, listen to Agent Washington and Captain Tucker. Again, follow their every order, and your likelihood of survival will greatly increase.”

There was some grumbling around the camp but each team loaded into their vehicles and prepared to roll out. Washington placed one heavy hand on Tucker’s shoulder and nodded before getting behind the wheel of their warthog. Caboose was already seated in the back of the truck, spouting off nonsense to Andersmith and Polomo while Dr Grey sorted through any supplies she might need.

Tucker looked around at what was left of their camp and felt nearly as empty as it looked.

Sighing, he jumped into the car and readied himself for the bloodbath that was about to ensue.


	5. Tittynope: A small quantity of something left over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise for posting so much in one day but idgaf take my fic okay?

And by god was it a bloodbath. Tucker was knocked down within the first ten minutes of fighting, a well-thrown grenade going off a little too close. He could feel several ribs broken and peeking through his skin, and he was well aware of how quickly his helmet was filling up with blood.

Dr Grey found him whimpering pitifully on the ground almost immediately after the explosion and was trying her best to fix what was by now irreparable.

“Lavernius, please stay with me. I’ve got an idea to keep you… _alive_. I just need you to stay awake for a little while longer.”

Tucker tried to grunt an affirmation back at her, wanting so badly to snap at her to inform her that he was indeed _trying his fucking hardest, thank you_. But as he was rolling his tongue around to try in vain to make the words come out, he felt something click into place against the back of his helmet.

“Stop moving around. I only need 10 more seconds, Tucker.”

His vision started to blur, the pain quickly becoming too much to handle anymore.

“Just three, two, one… There!”

And all Tucker saw was darkness.

* * *

The next time Tucker woke up (which in all honesty was a complete and total surprise), he felt like a new person.

And as he looked in the mirror, he realised that he _was_ a new person.

Well, not a _new_ person, per say. A very, very familiar person. Just… not…. Tucker?

He tried to lift his hand to touch the face staring back at him but found that he couldn’t move anything. In fact, he wasn’t even breathing or blinking. It was like he was _wearing_ someone.

Wait. 

 _I died, didn’t I?_ he thought frantically. _I died out there and Grey did something to me but it was too late. She didn’t save me, right?_

“Well, you’re not completely wrong,” the voice of the body clarified, surprising Tucker.

_How the hell can you hear me?_

“Tucker, you’re not exactly alive anymore.”

_What in the fucking hell is that bullshit supposed to mean, Washington?!_

Tucker froze in his thinking. He was in Wash’s head. The one and only Agent David I’m-Never-Allowing-Anyone-Else-In-My-Head Washington.

And for the second time that day, everything went black.

* * *

_“I don’t understand, Emily. I shouldn’t be alive”_

_“That may be true, but I kept you alive. Well, I didn’t. Your new AI did.”_

_“AI?!”_

_“Correct, Agent Washington. I installed a new AI to help you keep the power flow of your suit balanced while the healing unit was running. It turns out that AI don’t even have to be conscious to run those automatic checks! Fascinating!”_

_“I still don’t understand. How did you install an AI? How did you **get** an AI?”_

_“Don’t be silly! I was the one who fixed you up when you first got here, remember? I know all about those pretty little wires in your head!”_

_“Okay, but where the hell did you find a new AI on this godforsaken planet?”_

_“I made it, of course! Well, I copied him from someone. Someone you know very well. In fact, I was certain he’d be the only person you’d ever let into your head, given the fact you’ve been inseparable in the past few weeks. It was fairly simple seeing as all I had to do was-”_

_“What the **hell** did you do to Tucker?”_

_“He was dying, Agent Washington, so were you. I only had one healing unit and there was no way Captain Tucker ever would have survived. So I saved him the only way I could.”_

_“And he’s… he’s in my head now?”_

_“Correct, Agent Washington. I'll give you some time to deal with this news. I hope for all of our sakes that this turns out better than Epsilon did.”_

_“Me too. Oh god, me too.”_

* * *

“How the hell did I just see that?” Tucker shouted, his holographic form shimmering in anger. “Why can I see all of your memories?”

Washington sighed, a litany of responses flying through his thoughts before he just shook his head and closed his eyes. Finally he decided on saying, “you’re an AI now, remember? Everything in my head is yours now. And vice versa, by the way.”

Tucker closed his mouth and looked down at the helmet he held in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Wash. I know you don’t want me here.”

Silence lapsed over them before the AI finally glanced up to see the freelancer studying him intently.

“It’s not you, you know that, right? It’s anyone in general. After Epsilon, I…”

“I get it, man. If you need to pull me, go ahead. I’m not even alive anymore, so it doesn’t really matter.”

The quietness of the room started to get to Tucker (or maybe it was getting to Wash? Tucker wasn’t quite sure which thoughts were his anymore, to be honest). There was a faint beeping coming from whatever machines Dr Grey had hooked up to the freelancer and some dull shouting from somewhere outside the medical ward, but it suddenly was all the sim trooper – no, AI now, remember? – could hear.

“It does.”

Tucker flickered a bit as he snapped his head up to meet Wash’s gaze. “What?”

“It does matter, Tucker. I couldn’t pull you. Pulling Epsilon was instinctual. He was killing me from the inside out while he killed himself. I didn’t have any other choice. But you’re different.”

“Different-good or different-bad?”

“Obviously good. Hell, you’re the one who was pulling me out of whatever dark corner of my mind I’ve been stuck in. Maybe having you up there will help me sort through the rest of it?”

A nervous chuckle slipped from the agent’s lips while he shrugged one shoulder, but he didn’t add anything else.

“Yeah, about that, dude. It’s a fucking mess up here.”

“Hey! Yours isn’t exactly spotless either!”

“So you’re saying that it’s _dirty_? Do you like it dirty, Wash?”

“ _Tucker!_ ”

“Never hurts to ask.”

* * *

It took a while to get used to having another voice in his head. Well, not _his_ head, but hearing all of Wash’s panicked thoughts was wearing him thin.

 _Seriously, Wash? It wouldn’t kill you to take a break every now and then,_ Tucker fumed.

“Yes, it actually could,” Wash responded aloud, scowling at the small group of soldiers that gave him a weird look for seemingly talking to himself. “In case you forgot, we’re in the middle of a war-torn planet. Taking a break is exactly the kind of thing that could get us killed.”

 _Fine,_ the AI conceded. _But we can relax. Just once. Please, Wash, you’re going to wear me out with all of your worrying._

“Tucker, you know I can’t do that. What if Kimball or Doyle needs me or Carolina and Church intercept new intel or-”

_No, dude. I can keep tabs on Church now since we’re binary bros, digital dudes, AI amigos, whatever you wanna call it._

“But…”

_Nope. Come on, when’s the last time you got some action?_

The agent visibly flinched. “I hardly believe that is information that you need to be privy to, Captain.”

Tucker decided to use this time to project himself in front of Wash. He appeared in his civies, sitting with his legs straight in front of himself and casually leaning back on one arm. “Come on, Agent Stick-Up-Your-Ass. When’s the last time you did the one-handed shuffle? Milked the cow? Cleaned out the plumbing?”

“Seriously, stop. If you use another shitty innuendo, I’m pulling you right now.”

“Surely I’m convincing you with my devilishly good looks, right?” He threw an exaggerated wink in Wash’s direction before scrunching up his legs and resting his arms on his knees. Sighing, he placed his chin on this folded up arms before muttering, “Please, Wash. I can’t do it myself anymore, and you seriously need some time to unwind before you fucking snap. I, Captain Lavernius Tucker, am begging you to do this.”

Pausing to take a couple deep breaths, Washington glanced at the hologram before letting his shoulders sag and numbly mumbling, “Fine. Let’s go.”


	6. Onism: The frustration of being stuck in just one body that inhabits only one place at a time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [stops by just to drop off a small amount of smut] 
> 
> soz. i'll try to write more later this weekend. ty for being patient.

“Okay, Wash. I’ve been practicing something that I’d like to try,” Tucker started once they got to the freelancer’s bed. He tried his best to ignore his own bed sitting alone, untouched for over a month now.

“I thought you said I just needed to get myself off and then I could go back to what I was doing before,” protested Wash. “I don’t have time for this, Tucker.”

“Listen, I’ve been fiddling around back here and-”

“Hey! Don’t be messing around in my head, asshole!”

“I’m being careful. Anyway, as I was saying, I’ve been exploring – and it’s still a huge fucking mess, by the way – but I think I found the part of your brain that _feels_.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anyth- oh!”

Wash shuddered as his eyes slipped closed and he felt careful kisses running up and down his neck. His mind wanted to race, cycling through everything from _how is this possible_ to _how did it take him over a month to try this_ , but his body immediately shut down that train of thought before it could leave the station.

The ghostly kisses felt sloppier and harsher as they trailed up towards his face, flitting over his jaw and settling on his lips. In the back of his mind, Washington knew he probably looked ridiculous trying to return the kisses to the empty air in front of him, but his response was pretty uncontrollable due to the searing lips he could feel against his own.

He was getting lost in the ministrations and almost missed the way he could _almost_ feel two hands skate down his sides, petting in the places he was the most sensitive. It shouldn’t have surprised him since Tucker was able to access _every_ memory, but if he was really being honest, it was a bit of a shock that Tucker would actually _use_ that information.

Regardless, the agent did his best to brush those thoughts away as he felt a tongue brush against his own and fingers dip into the creases between his hips and thighs and lightly rub closer to his cock. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open and scanned the room frantically before he heard the softest chuckle and the captain’s voice at the back of his mind.

_Yeah, I’m not really there, buddy. Sorry._

Sighing, Wash nodded and let himself sink back into the careful care of Tucker’s meticulous sensations. He could’ve sworn he heard Tucker mutter something else. (Something perhaps along the lines of _Believe me, Wash. I want nothing more than for this to be real_.)

_Alright, cowboy. Time to get this party started._

Before Wash had a chance to even open his mouth, the feeling of a warm, wet mouth sunk around his length and something rubbed against his ass – was that a _tongue_? The freelancer squirmed at the sudden stimulation but soon felt two sturdy hands press against his chest to urge him to stay still. With his waning attention, he noticed that the hands felts like they were roughly the same size and shape he remembered Tucker’s to be.

Once Wash stopped wiggling around as much, the hands slid down slightly in order to play with his nipples. In addition to the tongues working his mouth, ass, and dick, he could feel himself quickly losing control.

He moaned wordlessly a few times, turning a furious shade of crimson when he did nothing to muffle the sound.

As he bucked up into the unoccupied air, he felt himself getting and closer to release. He frantically tried to put this in words to tell Tucker, but the AI was clearly on a mission because instantly his prostate felt like it was vibrating and honestly, how did Tucker learn how to do this?!

It soon overwhelmed Wash, and before he knew it, he was throwing his head back and chanting a string of _Tucker_ and _Lavernius_ and _Monerasha_ while the teal-clad man appeared at full-size to straddle the man and whisper sweet nothings as he came down from his high.

As he lay there with sweat clinging to his body and a flush bringing out his dusting of freckles, Washington hummed and leaned his head into the soothing feeling of a hand tracing his jawline.

“See, don’t you feel better already, _monerasha_?” the hologram purred.

“Mmmmhmmmmmm,” was the only response that the freelancer could come up with while both his body and brain felt like absolute gelatine. With a little more effort he was able to slip in an accidental “Love you,” before drifting off into the most satisfying sleep of his life.


End file.
